From Archibald Mc'Sparrans book: "Donnell and the Norman De Borgos"
Finvola, the Gem of the Roe
In the lands of O'Cahan, where bleak mountains rise,
O'er whose brown ridgy tops now the dusky cloud flies,
Deep sunk in a valley a wild flower did grow,
And her name was Finvola, the gem of the Roe,
And her name was Finvola, the gem of the Roe.
From the Isles of AEbudae, appeared to our view,
A youth clad in tartan,'tis strange as 'tis true,
With a star on his breast, and unstrung was his bow,
and he sigh'd for Finvola, the gem of the Roe,
And he sigh'd for Finvola, the gem of the Roe.
No more up the streamlet her maidens shall hie,
For wan the cold cheek, and bedim'd the blue eye,
In silent affliction our sorrow shall flow,
Since gone is Finvola, the gem of the Roe,
Since gone is Finvola, the gem of the Roe.
The text to "The Londonderry Air" by Frederic Weatherly
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
Until recently a different version was popular locally:
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling,
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow -
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,
Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so.
And when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
If I am dead, as dead I well may be,
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an 'Ave' there for me.
And I shall hear though soft you tread above me,
and all my grave will warm, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
In Derry Vale
In Derry Vale beside the singing river,
Where oft' I played - ah many years ago!
And culled at morn the golden daffodils,
That came with spring to set the world aglow.
Oh Derry Vale my thoughts are ever turning,
To your broad stream and fairy cirled lea,
For your green hills my exiled heart is yearning,
So far away across the sea.
In Derry Vale amid the Foyle's dark waters,
The salmon leap above the surging weir;
The seabirds call - I still can hear them calling,
In night's long dreams of those so dear.
Oh tarrying years, fly faster ever faster,
I long to see the Vale beloved so well,
I long to know that I am not forgotten,
And there at home in peace to dwell.
I don't know the author of the following poem.
In silent majesty thy towering form
Unchallenged monarch of the realms below,
Uplifts its riven precipice through storm,
Through morning mist, clear noon and sunset glow.
Thrones and dominions rise and pass away,
To time alone thou dost thy tribute pay.